


The World You Want to See

by Dirtcore Dreams (Dream_tempo)



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Chubby Derek, Drabble Collection, Famous Derek Hale, Fluff, Human Derek Hale, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Cheating, Jock Derek, M/M, Millionaire Derek, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Pregnant Derek Hale, Sex Work, Sex Worker Dean, Wooing, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Figured I should have a drabble collection for the non-porny things that I write too. Will encompass multiple ships and fandoms





	1. Stiles/Derek-- reconnection, mutual pining, angst

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna start adding new and old stuff to this. If you've got a favorite drabble of mine that you don't see on here, lemme know and I'll get it uploaded. I'd love to see if I can't port over all my tumblr things eventually.

They knew they shouldn’t. 

But rain was pattering against the windows and the city lit the room so lovely. Blues and yellows, the occasional flash of red, it cast Derek’s vulnerability in such stark relief. The shadows of the droplets running down the window panes multiplied the speckling on Stiles’ skin. Neither of them shivered because of the cold. 

And it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other naked, wasn’t like they hadn’t been here before. But it had been a while, and they both belonged in someone else’s bed. Derek’s eyes couldn’t help trailing to the constellation of moles on Stiles’ hip he used to love to kiss, almost covered up by dark, curly hair he used to adore nosing aside. Stiles’ fingers reached out to trace a scar, the one Derek was always shy about, but died to have caressed. 

It was like returning to your hometown. Some of the sights were different, but the paths remained the same, the streets were still yours. Derek made these pained, breathy sounds, beautiful eyes always wet and close to tears. Stiles  _ ached  _ and no matter how he stretched, the tension wouldn’t release. 

The shuffle of the sheets was the loudest in the room, the slide of their skin, the rasp where their body hair met. They kissed and kissed and kissed. No position was considered where they couldn’t press their cheeks together, rub their noses, breathe each other in. 

Derek’s nails dug in and Stiles’ heels pushed bruises. When the tides rose and they felt like overflowing, they wrapped each other up in their arms, squeezed like they’d fall apart if they ever let go. It was a grapple— muscles straining, skin sweating, teeth gritting as they grunted and cried out. 

They couldn’t ever let go. 

No matter the space, the time, the people between them. There was always this. They would always be this.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you.  _

_ Stay.  _


	2. Dean/Castiel-- Hurt/comfort, pre-slash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: CAS MET DEAN WHEN HE WAS HOOKING TO FEED SAMMY

He was sure it was pity. It had to be, nothing else made sense. A cute, calm Catholic boy with cornflower blue eyes, sitting on the curb with him, bringing an extra peanut butter and banana slice sandwich, wrapped in tinfoil. 

They never said much, just mowed through the soft white bread and sticky fillings. Sometimes there was honey too. Dean knew he should begrudge the Johns that walked on by, spooked by the kid with a cross hanging around the red light district, but. He knew he should feel bad about not saving part of these stolen meals for Sammy, he was a growing kid, could use the extra fuel, but. 

This little indulgence? Easily the one that felt most sordid day in, day out. All the filthy things strangers did to him and Dean only ever felt himself blushing when he kissed this boy’s fingers, murmured thanks he could only say with shut eyes. 

Castiel smiled at him in a way that wasn’t expecting anything, said his name like it still held weight, rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip with tenderness, not control. They didn’t fuck. At least not yet. One time kissed and bit and sucked at each others’ tongues in the rain, outside a dollar store. 

Dean thinks of it a lot, with other men inside him, goes back to that sidewalk corner where the train rattles on the overpass and the open sign radiates neon green and Cas smells like creamed butter and sugar. 

One day he’ll get to do it again. One day they’ll eat meals at a table and he won’t have to hide it from Sammy. One day he’ll only fuck for the fun of it and only with one boy, eyes so cornflower blue. 


	3. Derek/Stiles-- mpreg, fluff, crack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: FOR FLUFF CAN WE HAVE THE PACK TAKING CARE OF PREGNANT DEREK?

He’s fussy. Too hot, too cold. Starving but everything makes him sick. He likes to nap the afternoons away but gets headaches when he wakes up. Honestly, Stiles is pretty sure the baby’s gonna be easier to handle than Derek’s been. Not that a rotund, feisty Derek hasn’t been both adorable and so sexy his dick actually aches most days, but his husband can be a bit of a handful, especially after a double shift.

It’s why the pack’s decided to set up an alternating schedule, like a chore wheel only every triangle is take care of Derek. Stiles swears he’ll make it up to them, that the twins, when they come out, will be so cute it’ll all be forgotten. Werepups are adorable! They shift when they sneeze!

Then the horror stories start coming in. Derek slapped a bowl of pasta out of Allison’s hands when he jokingly did airplane noises at him. Derek threatened to kill a salesperson when Boyd and Erica took him stroller shopping. Derek’s been fingering himself in the living room and begging someone to fuck him and Jackson seems a little too game. Things started disappearing from the house and Isaac found Derek nesting in the basement. He thinks Derek may have marked the territory.

Derek insists on a water birth. At the house. In their backyard.

The pack says they’ll visit once the kiddy pool is disposed of. Stiles tries not to panic as Deaton positions his hands in front of his husband’s honestly wrecked asshole, just waiting for a kid to shoot out. Cutting the cords is horrifying. Watching Derek cradle them to his swollen chest, tears in his eyes is something Stiles will never forget.

Later, when they’ve got booties on and Derek can’t stop dozing off and Stiles has made sure he’s all squared away for a couple months off work, they all decide it’s worth it. They try to hold onto that idea when Derek announces he can’t wait to be pregnant again. 


	4. Derek/Stiles-- reconnection, mutual pining, courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: HEY, MISSED SEEING YOUR STUFF! HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL :3 HOW ABOUT BILLIONAIRE DEREK AGGRESSIVELY TRYING TO BUY STILES' LOVE, THOUGH LITTLE DOES HE KNOW STILES ALREADY KIND OF DOES AND IS VERY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH EXTRAVAGANCE

It’s weird, being able to say you knew someone when. It’s a sentiment that gets thrown around a lot, something everyone has probably told a friend once in their lives— no matter how honest. Usually it happens when you’re young, when you don’t know how to accurately gauge talent, drive, the way the world works. You tell someone that they’re gonna be big and you’re gonna be able to sell their first shitty song or drawing or idea they gave you in purple pen on a diner napkin.

Stiles is in that surreal space where it actually happened. Derek Hale, 30 Under 30, 2017’s Most Eligible Bachelors. His teenage crush is officially plastered across magazines and billboards, on tv, suited up for interviews and shirtless in photoshoots. It’s… mind boggling. Like the guy wasn’t out his league before.

Having the evidence and nationwide confirmation is shitty. He’s happy for Derek, really. He just also kind of has to finally admit to himself there was no way that small, vulnerable dream he’d had of meeting up at a high school reunion, hitting it off, making out behind the bleachers, and eventually settling down to have kids in his dad’s old house was ever gonna happen.

Not that he had much of a chance anyway, but still. It was a nice thing to escape to— that thought like maybe someday you’ll miss your exit to work and just keep driving until you’re in a city where nobody knows you. He thinks it’ll die down, that he’ll stop having to constantly be on the verge of a stomach ache because it’s inescapable— especially in their small town.

Everyone wants to talk about him, the hometown hero that’s putting them on the map. Stiles just wants them all to shut up about it so he can have some peace. Because if he’s being honest honest, like might as well since he’s slowly demo-ing his pitiful fantasy, it wasn’t just a crush he nursed on Derek Hale. Stiles is pretty sure he loved him.

Derek listened. Derek took him seriously. Derek gave a shit.

High school was a time for Stiles when no one else really did. His dad was still in the dregs of mourning his mom. Scott was still kind of a shitty teenager— they all there, that’s what teenagers do, but still. The deputies found him a nuisance, his teachers actively despised him. But then there was Derek, who just looked at him and saw.

But he was always popular and handsome and smart and athletic and no one could fathom why he was always letting Stiles tag along like a younger sibling that couldn’t make their own friends. Most thought it was pity, Stiles sometimes believed them. He’d always held on to the notion that it wasn’t though, that maybe Derek felt something for him, with him.

Until the gifts started pouring in. It started with roses, chocolates, even a singing telegram. When the cheesy, preprinted cards signed with a stamp went unanswered they were followed by watches and baseball tickets, a personal chef for the day, a fucking car! Everyone thought it was so romantic. Everyone thought Stiles was so heartless. An old lady spit on him in a convenience store.

How could anyone turn down the great and mighty Derek Hale? Stiles was finding more and more reasons every time a knock came at his door. His kids understood him at least, because oh ya. That thing where they say those that can’t do, teach? Derek went out into the world and did shit. Stiles loved story time with his second graders.

They liked to hear about all the extravagant atrocities he was now having a hard time finding place to put. They snickered and groaned and amicably patted his cheeks with sticky hands, always sympathetic. All they needed to know was that Stiles didn’t want the attention and that was enough for them to take his side.

What he wished someone else would hear is that it all meant nothing, and that’s what actually hurt. Derek was just throwing money at him, like a problem. Maybe he really always had pitied Stiles, saw a kid that didn’t have anything and now he was trying to fill his life with material garbage. Stiles was being showered in wealth and he hated every second of it.

Because what a fool. He’d honestly thought Derek understood him. All this years no one he’d ever dated could live up to that high school boy next door that made eye contact and listened. Now he’s pretty sure he dreamed it all up. A guy like that wouldn’t just mail him things from states away with a stamped signature he probably had made so the book signings would go faster.

Stiles didn’t want all the gifts. If Derek had just visited, just called, just written. His friends and coworkers kept telling him beggars can’t be choosers and Derek Hale was a jackpot anyway. But he’d rather be lonely in his own house, surrounded by his own things than lonely in a gilded cage, someone’s pretty plaything or pet pity project.

It’s a year into Derek’s celebrity and a Tuesday when they literally run into each other at the park. Stiles was surveying his kids on a Field Day. Derek was walking his designer wolf hybrid. Squished between their chests were the sticky remains of two ice cream cones. Stiles stammered. Derek let out a slow, blushing smile. His ears still lit up red.

Stiles had packed extra clothes— always on the guard for kids puking on him, his own clumsiness sending him into a mud puddle. A tanktop nearly burst around Derek’s chest and showed off a decent amount of his adorably hairy belly, but he wore it good naturedly, acting shy whenever the kids came around, covering it with his hands.

They sat under a tree and talked and talked and talked. The kids loved Derek’s dog. Stiles loved how much Derek knew about the breed and avidly taught them. Derek frowned and the light left his eyes when Stiles made him promise to stop sending gifts at the end of the day.

That didn’t last too long, as he followed it up by saying he doesn’t do long distance and Derek shamelessly jumped at it— claiming he was here to convert his old family estate into a home office anyway. Stiles was pretty sure he was lying, he was also pretty sure he didn’t care. Somehow that old lady still gave him crusties when they walked by hand in hand. Some people just can’t be pleased. 


	5. Derek/Stiles-- high school, pining, wooing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: SO YOU SAID FLUFF PROMPT AND THE FIRST THINK I THOUGHT ABOUT WAS BABY DEREK (IAN N) WITH FLOWERS IN FRONT OF THE STILINSKI RESIDENCE. HE FINALLY GOT THE COURAGE TO GO AND ASK STILES OUT AFTER HE OVERHEARD SCOTT AND STILES TALKING. MAYBE THAT STILES LIKED HAIRY GUYS OR SOMETHING AND IT WAS SOMETHING THAT DEREK WAS ASHAMED OF SO FAR (BEING HAIRY MAYBE BC OF SOME TEASING IN THE LOCKER-ROOM ?) BUT HEARING STILES SAY THAT MADE HIM SO HAPPY HE HAD TO ASK HIS LONG TIME CRUSH OUT IMMEDIATELY !

_“Dude, for the last time, I will not help you manscape. For one, I’m not ready to cross that friendship boundary yet, and for another, really? Do guys not get that they look like raw chicken down there with it all waxed and clipped? What’s wrong with the fuzz? It’s all cute and cuddly.”_

Derek’s been playing it over and over in his head since the moment he overheard Scott and Stiles talking at their lockers. It’s utterly ridiculous that it made his heart stutter and butterflies fill his stomach, but he very nearly vibrated right out of his skin then and there. 

 _Stiles Stilinski_ thought hairy guys were cute. He’d never thought someone like that could even be in the ballpark of liking someone like him. Stiles was all slender, pink, and perfect– with those gorgeous eyes and kissable lips and that adorable nose that Derek just wanted to nuzzle. He’d spend a long time thinking Stiles was just out of his league, but now?

Well now he only had a slightly better chance, but it was something! Derek had never been unpopular, he was an athlete so he was always gonna be a part of that inner ring of clique cool, but he wasn’t the same thing as all the WASP ideal lacrosse stars. All those boys looked like they belong in a department store catalog, like they’d be at home in a Liftetime Christmas movie. Derek had been shaving, worn husky jeans, and been in braces since he was 12. 

The braces came off just months before– teeth straightened but still a little rabbit-esque in the front– the rest had only gotten worse. His thighs shook when he walked and his mom called him  _osito,_ which the guys in the locker room picked up all too quickly. He’d tried waxing it all once, putting himself on a diet, asking the coach to change weight classes, but that just made the guys laugh all the harder and his big sister sit down and have  _a talk_ with him. 

In the end, he was actually glad to give it up, finding himself comfortable in his own skin, if a little self conscious around others. He decided to just play a little more into the shy and quiet guy he was naturally, let himself fade a little into the background. It worked well enough, just not so much when he got a massive crush on one of the most outgoing guys in the whole school. 

 _Everyone_ knew Stiles. Whether or not they liked him was always up for debate, but everyone for sure knew who he was, and he knew them. He always walked down the halls calling out a couple dozen names, making finger guns at people, raising his hand for high fives that had a fifty-fifty chance of being returned, comically failing at chest bumps. 

Derek couldn’t help but smile whenever he was around. So the moment he got even an inkling of a green light, he had to jump on it, even if it ended in total failure. He waited for the weekend and dressed in his nicest, softest sweater that his mom said brought out his eyes. He had Cora help him make heart shaped smore cookie sandwiches with homemade marshmallow and everything. He took his allowance and bought an arrangement of pink calla lilies his mom put in a vase. 

His whole family cooed at him and Laura took pictures and it was the single most embarrassing moment of his life, but he was thankful for all of them helping him out– fixing his hair, telling him what to say, assuring him it would all work out– and he gave them each a massive hug before driving out to the Stilinski home. 

He listened to an upbeat playlist the whole way over to get him pumped, went over his script in his head in the car, and schooled his breathing as he walked up to the porch, vase in his hands, box of treats under one arm. His hands shook as he knocked, his heart thundered, but he didn’t back down. 

It took about a minute, but he heard Stiles thundering down the stairs and then he opened the door, bleary eyed and with pillow creases on his cheek. His hair was pulled back from his face in a wide, cloth headband. White spots of zit cream littered his face. He had thick, chunky glasses on that Derek had never seen before that made his eyes huge and owlish. Derek’s heart skipped a beat and a flush tinged his cheeks and turned the tips of his ears. “D’rek?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his hand at his nose, scrubbing his face as he tried to orient himself. It was technically still morning, but Derek had thought 11am was pretty safe. Guess Stiles was one of those nap the afternoon away type guys. Derek’s lips fluttered into a nervous smile and he stuttered forward, thrusting the flowers out in front of him. 

“I know we’ve never talked much or really ever hung out, so you don’t really know me, but I’d like to give you the chance to. I think if we spent time together, you might really get to like me and then we could be on even footing, because I really like you. And maybe it’s not conventional to start dating each other when only one of us has a crush, but I think you’re kind of an unconventional guy in the best sort of way, so I hope you say yes anyway…. I-uh… didn’t mean for that to rhyme.” 

Stiles blinked. His mouth opened and closed. His hands flailed. And just when Derek was starting to sweat on his neck and question whether he should pull the flowers back, Stiles smiled. “Wait, are you asking me out?”

Derek frowned a little, looked at his proferred flowers, heart shaped baked goods, put together outfit. “I mean… yes.” Stiles’ face turned pink and his bare toes wiggled in delight. It was the cutest thing Derek had ever seen. 

“Holy, shit! Sorry, I just wasn’t sure I had actually woken up yet. I mean, almost this exact thing has happened to me in a dream before and– fuck I shouldn’t have said that, pretend you didn’t hear it.” And now it was Derek’s turn to grin like an idiot, buck teeth be damned. 

“Is that a yes then?” Stiles answered by grabbing his sleeve and tugging him into the house, closing the door behind them so he could push Derek up against it. 

“You’re only the cutest, sweetest guy in the entire school Derek. You totally deserve better, and I’m sorry, but your first kiss with me is for sure gonna taste like morning breath.” Derek didn’t have any time to react before Stiles’ lips were on his and soon their tongues slid together too. 

It was better than Derek could have ever imagined. 


	6. Derek/Stiles-- reconnecting, chubby, courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF TAKING CHUBBY DEREK AWAY FROM YOU! MAYBE A FIRST DATE IN COLLEGE BETWEEN DEREK AND STILES? MAYBE DEREK'S A LITTLE INSECURE, AFTER EVERYTHING HE'S BEEN THROUGH, AND STILES JUST WANTS TO FUCKING BLOW RASPBERRIES ON HIS HAIRY TUMMY TBH

It’s weird to be back here now, after what their lives had been, after what they’ve turned out to be. Stiles never thought that maybe, this is where the two of them could end up. It’s casual– they had to do it casual, both jittering at the thought of breaking the fragile interest with too much weight– but that doesn’t stop the butterflies. 

Derek meets him just off campus for lunch– beer and wings in a place crowded with suited coworkers yelling about office politics and upcoming games. Stiles is wearing a backwards snapback, Derek has nylon basketball shorts on. 

But they’re both breathless when they smile at each other, when they sit down close enough to touch thighs, when Derek elects to lean in and whisper to talk instead of shouting like everyone else. 

When he moves his body to the side, the tanktop he’s wearing rides up over his stomach, showing off the tanned skin, dark hair, and the pad of fluff that’s where his abs used to be. It creases when he moves bends forward, sticks out over his jeans, looks like it needs to be bitten and sucked and massaged. 

Out of all the fantasies Stiles has had over the years about Derek Hale, somehow, the one about massaging his belly after a too-big meal, calling him babe, and kissing him through the little groans he makes as air resettles in his stomach and makes whale noises, is the one he’s currently most ashamed of. 

Because Derek catches him staring and his ears turn red and he coughs in such an awkward space that it actually makes him choke on his words. He rushes to pull the ribbed fabric back over his body, pulls his thighs together, hunches in. “I never really liked running,” is all he mumbles before feigning interest in the tennis match being broadcast across the room. 

There’s a couple minutes of tense silence before Stiles catches the waiter going by, loudly orders another side of fries and a shake, and then turns to Derek with a shy smile. “You better help me finish those, big guy.” And then, before he loses his courage, shoves himself forward to plant an open, wet, giggling kiss over Derek’s lips. 

“You don’t have to play it like that,” Derek admonishes, blush still fierce, but eyes sparkling now, ducking his head out of shyness instead of embarrassment. 

Before he can get any other words out though, Stiles stops him with another kiss, licks the season salt from his lips and hums into the pleasant flavor. “Dude, all I’ve ever wanted is someone to get chunky with. Feed me Tollhouse cookies all weekend while I’m playing Overwatch and I’ll make you enough lasagna to burst your jean buttons. Just as long as I get to rub my cum in your happy trail and you promise to fuck my thighs, k?”

The breath wheezes out of Derek as their extra sides get plunked down on the table and Stiles starts munching away. He stares at the linoleum table top for a long time, but opens his mouth dutifully when Stiles waves a shake-dipped fry in front of it. 

His brain will reset eventually, and then he’s gonna suck the buffalo sauce off every one of Stiles’ fingers and see who’s functioning. 


	7. Derek/Stiles-- established relationship, fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: OOH, FLUFFY! HOW ABOUT MAYBE STILES GETTING INTO A LITTLE BIT OF FEMINIZATION? BUT NOT ALONE, OH NO! AND NOT JUST FOR SEX KICKS, FOR FUN. MAYBE THE GIRLS OR THE QUEENS AT THE CLUB WHO LOVE HIM SO MUCH GET DEREK TO DO IT TO. MAKE THEM OVER HARD AND AT THE END ALL THEY CAN DO IS LOOK AT EACH OTHER AND LAUGH (AND SMOOCH, SMEAR THAT LIPSTICK GUYS!) THEY'VE COME A LONG WAY IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND STILES CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HIS DEREK. LAUGHING GENUINELY, IN HEELS NO LESS.

The plastic cases clatter as Stiles runs his hands over the lids, fingers fluttering in spidery glee. “Oooh, I want something shiny.” Derek huffs from behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder, perusing the vast array before them. They’re arranged in a gradient of color– all the way from a deep, femme fatale red through to pastel purples– and have everything from mattes, to glitters, to that sticky, shiny sort of gloss that reflects light. 

“Go simple, babe. You’ve got such pretty eyes, don’t draw attention away from them.” Derek reaches over Stiles to pluck a soft peach from the throng, deftly popping the cap and twisting the tube with one hand. He’d been helping his sisters with make up since their mother let the girls wear it, knew more than half the tutorialists on youtube Stiles loved to watch for Halloween ideas. 

With a gentle tug, he turned his boyfriend to face him and brushed the lipstick in, furrowing his brow in concentration, ever impressed by the pretty shape of that cupid’s bow. “C’mon, lemme go Gaga! How often do we get to do something like this?” 

“It’s a carnival charity, Stiles, not a drag show.” Derek only let Stiles drag him into that once and it was more than enough. He’d had what felt like a lifetime of plucking and shaving and waxing before they’d gotten together and was beyond over that kind of production. He was glad they liked to live so…  _loud_ and that Stiles got to join in, but Derek was apparently too old for it now, or just over pretending it was ever really his scene. 

The bright lights, the shitty club music, having to be  _on_ every moment. He’d much rather spend evenings at home, in sweats, watching Stiles watch someone else speedrun a game while getting his feet massaged. This was for Beacon Hills though, an attempt to rebuild the little town his family had watched over through the decades. 

He and Stiles were gonna blow the lid off the talent show, they’d been practicing into hairbrushes for weeks. Derek’s hair was spray-colored with mint streaks. Stiles was wearing legwarmers he found in his mother’s closet. They both had scrunchies halfway up their forearms. 

“Next you’re gonna tell me I can’t have fake eyelashes.” 

“How’d you guess?” Stiles’ pout was almost too adorable not to kiss. Their lipsticks would smear for sure, but maybe Derek could say it was part of the aesthetic…. “Yours are already ridiculous. Plus, I bought you glittery mascara, believe me, everyone’s gonna notice.” 

“You’re such a flirt. You know we’re already together, right? You don’t have to butter me up to come home with you tonight. All my shit’s there.” Stiles smirked as he played with the hem of Derek’s crop top, fingering the soft, dense fur on a belly that he loved to note had gone soft. He knew his man was all in love and content and domesticated with the sexy muscle chub, ex football player bod that was starting to show. 

Derek pulled him closer by the backs of his knees, buck teeth making an appearance as he tried his best to focus on eyeliner and not Stiles’ finger tips starting to search for his bush. “How about, if you stop squirming, we can keep this get-up on while we fuck?” 

Stiles’ face instantly blanked, before splitting into a wide, terribly endearing grin. “Ya? Want me to make use of the short shorts barely covering the junk in your trunk?” The bubble gum pink things were fairly obscene– even if they were just cotton– Derek’s ridiculously bodacious thighs made sure of that. 

“If we win the contest, I’ll even let you film it.” 

They had to delay their routine one performer behind, Stiles’ boner taking some convincing to de-tent. Derek’s electric slide got more genuine wolf whistles than Stiles had ever seen, and though he had to massage the cramp out of his thighs at home after, forgoing the promised athletic sex, it did transition rather seamlessly into eating his boyfriend out like there was a candy center just waiting for the right amount of licks. 


	8. Derek/Stiles-- crossdressing, chubby!Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: OOH, FLUFFY! HOW ABOUT MAYBE STILES GETTING INTO A LITTLE BIT OF FEMINIZATION? BUT NOT ALONE, OH NO! AND NOT JUST FOR SEX KICKS, FOR FUN. MAYBE THE GIRLS OR THE QUEENS AT THE CLUB WHO LOVE HIM SO MUCH GET DEREK TO DO IT TO. MAKE THEM OVER HARD AND AT THE END ALL THEY CAN DO IS LOOK AT EACH OTHER AND LAUGH (AND SMOOCH, SMEAR THAT LIPSTICK GUYS!) THEY'VE COME A LONG WAY IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP AND STILES CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HIS DEREK. LAUGHING GENUINELY, IN HEELS NO LESS.

The plastic cases clatter as Stiles runs his hands over the lids, fingers fluttering in spidery glee. “Oooh, I want something shiny.” Derek huffs from behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder, perusing the vast array before them. They’re arranged in a gradient of color– all the way from a deep, femme fatale red through to pastel purples– and have everything from mattes, to glitters, to that sticky, shiny sort of gloss that reflects light. 

“Go simple, babe. You’ve got such pretty eyes, don’t draw attention away from them.” Derek reaches over Stiles to pluck a soft peach from the throng, deftly popping the cap and twisting the tube with one hand. He’d been helping his sisters with make up since their mother let the girls wear it, knew more than half the tutorialists on youtube Stiles loved to watch for Halloween ideas. 

With a gentle tug, he turned his boyfriend to face him and brushed the lipstick in, furrowing his brow in concentration, ever impressed by the pretty shape of that cupid’s bow. “C’mon, lemme go Gaga! How often do we get to do something like this?” 

“It’s a carnival charity, Stiles, not a drag show.” Derek only let Stiles drag him into that once and it was more than enough. He’d had what felt like a lifetime of plucking and shaving and waxing before they’d gotten together and was beyond over that kind of production. He was glad they liked to live so…  _loud_ and that Stiles got to join in, but Derek was apparently too old for it now, or just over pretending it was ever really his scene. 

The bright lights, the shitty club music, having to be  _on_ every moment. He’d much rather spend evenings at home, in sweats, watching Stiles watch someone else speedrun a game while getting his feet massaged. This was for Beacon Hills though, an attempt to rebuild the little town his family had watched over through the decades. 

He and Stiles were gonna blow the lid off the talent show, they’d been practicing into hairbrushes for weeks. Derek’s hair was spray-colored with mint streaks. Stiles was wearing legwarmers he found in his mother’s closet. They both had scrunchies halfway up their forearms. 

“Next you’re gonna tell me I can’t have fake eyelashes.” 

“How’d you guess?” Stiles’ pout was almost too adorable not to kiss. Their lipsticks would smear for sure, but maybe Derek could say it was part of the aesthetic…. “Yours are already ridiculous. Plus, I bought you glittery mascara, believe me, everyone’s gonna notice.” 

“You’re such a flirt. You know we’re already together, right? You don’t have to butter me up to come home with you tonight. All my shit’s there.” Stiles smirked as he played with the hem of Derek’s crop top, fingering the soft, dense fur on a belly that he loved to note had gone soft. He knew his man was all in love and content and domesticated with the sexy muscle chub, ex football player bod that was starting to show. 

Derek pulled him closer by the backs of his knees, buck teeth making an appearance as he tried his best to focus on eyeliner and not Stiles’ finger tips starting to search for his bush. “How about, if you stop squirming, we can keep this get-up on while we fuck?” 

Stiles’ face instantly blanked, before splitting into a wide, terribly endearing grin. “Ya? Want me to make use of the short shorts barely covering the junk in your trunk?” The bubble gum pink things were fairly obscene– even if they were just cotton– Derek’s ridiculously bodacious thighs made sure of that. 

“If we win the contest, I’ll even let you film it.” 

They had to delay their routine one performer behind, Stiles’ boner taking some convincing to de-tent. Derek’s electric slide got more genuine wolf whistles than Stiles had ever seen, and though he had to massage the cramp out of his thighs at home after, forgoing the promised athletic sex, it did transition rather seamlessly into eating his boyfriend out like there was a candy center just waiting for the right amount of licks. 


	9. Derek/Stiles-- chubby!Derek, reconnection, college

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF TAKING CHUBBY DEREK AWAY FROM YOU! MAYBE A FIRST DATE IN COLLEGE BETWEEN DEREK AND STILES? MAYBE DEREK'S A LITTLE INSECURE, AFTER EVERYTHING HE'S BEEN THROUGH, AND STILES JUST WANTS TO FUCKING BLOW RASPBERRIES ON HIS HAIRY TUMMY TBH

It’s weird to be back here now, after what their lives had been, after what they’ve turned out to be. Stiles never thought that maybe, this is where the two of them could end up. It’s casual– they had to do it casual, both jittering at the thought of breaking the fragile interest with too much weight– but that doesn’t stop the butterflies. 

Derek meets him just off campus for lunch– beer and wings in a place crowded with suited coworkers yelling about office politics and upcoming games. Stiles is wearing a backwards snapback, Derek has nylon basketball shorts on. 

But they’re both breathless when they smile at each other, when they sit down close enough to touch thighs, when Derek elects to lean in and whisper to talk instead of shouting like everyone else. 

When he moves his body to the side, the tanktop he’s wearing rides up over his stomach, showing off the tanned skin, dark hair, and the pad of fluff that’s where his abs used to be. It creases when he moves bends forward, sticks out over his jeans, looks like it needs to be bitten and sucked and massaged. 

Out of all the fantasies Stiles has had over the years about Derek Hale, somehow, the one about massaging his belly after a too-big meal, calling him babe, and kissing him through the little groans he makes as air resettles in his stomach and makes whale noises, is the one he’s currently most ashamed of. 

Because Derek catches him staring and his ears turn red and he coughs in such an awkward space that it actually makes him choke on his words. He rushes to pull the ribbed fabric back over his body, pulls his thighs together, hunches in. “I never really liked running,” is all he mumbles before feigning interest in the tennis match being broadcast across the room. 

There’s a couple minutes of tense silence before Stiles catches the waiter going by, loudly orders another side of fries and a shake, and then turns to Derek with a shy smile. “You better help me finish those, big guy.” And then, before he loses his courage, shoves himself forward to plant an open, wet, giggling kiss over Derek’s lips. 

“You don’t have to play it like that,” Derek admonishes, blush still fierce, but eyes sparkling now, ducking his head out of shyness instead of embarrassment. 

Before he can get any other words out though, Stiles stops him with another kiss, licks the season salt from his lips and hums into the pleasant flavor. “Dude, all I’ve ever wanted is someone to get chunky with. Feed me Tollhouse cookies all weekend while I’m playing Overwatch and I’ll make you enough lasagna to burst your jean buttons. Just as long as I get to rub my cum in your happy trail and you promise to fuck my thighs, k?”

The breath wheezes out of Derek as their extra sides get plunked down on the table and Stiles starts munching away. He stares at the linoleum table top for a long time, but opens his mouth dutifully when Stiles waves a shake-dipped fry in front of it. 

His brain will reset eventually, and then he’s gonna suck the buffalo sauce off every one of Stiles’ fingers and see who’s functioning. 


	10. Derek/Stiles-- established relationship, chubby!Derek, anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MUSKYWOLFTHINGS ASKED: ALRIGHT LISTEN- FLUFFY STUFF MAKES MY BRAIN GO ALL GOOEY AND I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT, SO I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING TOO SPECIFIC, BUT COULD YOU JUST GO AGAIN WITH CHUBBY DEREK AND HIS BREATHLESSNESS AT STILES WANTING ALL THOSE FURRY CURVES AND BUNNY TEETH? MAYBE EVEN MORE DOMESTIC, ON VACATION IN A HOTEL SOMEWHERE WITH LOADS OF ROOM SERVICE. FOOT RUBS AND FRIES, BELLIES AND BURGERS...JUST, JUST YEAH...YOU KNOW

> Haha, well that just means it’s working! I’m glad to hear it. I think we could all use some nice, sugary distraction today and I’m gonna be around the whole time to give it, so feel free to keep any and all prompts coming! Also, y’all are the best letting me have this weird, specific little niche that I’ve carved out, and continuing to come back to ask for more. I never really thought anyone would be interested. 

The hotel infomercial channel plays in the background as Derek groans, pulling a pillow down to cover his face to try and mitigate some of the volume. They’d decided to go ahead and hike the back of that touristy volcano today and neither was really prepared for what that meant– Stiles not anticipating it taking a whole day, Derek not realizing the intense heat would make his entire system sluggish, including the healing that usually protected him from muscle aches. 

Now that they were back, sweaty and sticky, tired and starving, Stiles couldn’t help but laugh at the pair of them. Derek had thrown himself on the bed– one rubber sandal kicked off, the other dangling from his foot– and Stiles had immediately rung for room service. Three and a half burgers, a basket of onion rings, a cone of french fries, and three pitchers of tea later, they were both half naked and rolling in the sheets, trying to decide if they’d made the discomfort worse. 

Stiles was picking at his blistering farmer’s tan while Derek rubbed the generous swell of his stomach, hefting it with two hands every once in a while as he groaned. “Babe, I don’t think we’re fun, adventurous twenty something’s anymore.” Stiles rolled to kiss at Derek’s shoulder, tasting the salt and smelling the tang of his sweat. He let his lips rest there after, just pressing as he breathed his boyfriend in. 

“Stiles, I haven’t been in my twenties for over three years now.” Derek’s eyes are a bit glassy as they stare at the ceiling, he’s trying to catch his breath and– Stiles can tell by the screw of his face– not fart. He wonders what it means that he knows Derek so intimately to be able to tell that’s exactly what’s happening, and whether or not he imagined couples’ intimacy being this… intimate. 

“I shouldn’t have ordered cheese on everything. You’re gonna be constipated all night.” Stiles gives Derek a sympathetic pout and takes over the massaging of his stomach, leaning down to kiss his firm, but fleshy chest and lip a little at one of the dark nipples in apology. “I keep forgetting you’re an old man now and you don’t have as much pep in your step as you once did. It’s all wool sweaters now and walks around the neighborhood instead of the dog park.” 

Derek glares at him, but the look does little when he also tangles their legs together, rubbing the skin to feel their hair scratch and rasp at another. “I seem to recall you being the one too jet lagged for sex the other day, hmmm?” That’s when Stiles knew he loved Derek for sure because the guy let him practically doze while getting a blowjob and then jerked off over him before settling in the mess for a nap. It was totally touching. 

“Well,  _ya._  I’m adapting to suit you, because  _obviously_ old dogs can’t learn new tricks.” Stiles squawks as Derek rolls over on top of him,  smothering him with his weight and not even bothering to carry any of it himself. He might as well be a hairy, sexy corpse splayed out over him. He does not try to stop his next fart and as his body shakes with the laughter afterwards, more pepper out in a musical, stuttering performance– a true, vicious spiral. 

Derek’s fit of laughter turns audible and he turns his face into Stiles’ neck, curling around the younger boy as he struggles to breathe and apologize. It’s all definitely worth it. 


	11. Derek/everyone-- mpreg, domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: FOR FLUFF HOW ABOUT MORE FOR THE MOMMY DEREK FIC (CHAPTER 63 OF GOING NOWHERE FAST) AND HAVE DEREK GET DOTTED ON BY THE PACK WHILE PREGNANT.

The boys all have their schooling and activities and families to spend time with, but it’s easy enough for them to come up with a rotating shift to make sure Derek is never alone. The first breeding didn’t take, but no one complained about having to try again, and after a few successive failures, they started to take it seriously. 

They waited till Derek was at his most fertile time of the month, the boys didn’t pleasure themselves for a week beforehand. Derek was laid in a den he made himself, surrounded by pheromone soaked clothes from all of his pack. They kept his legs up, a fat, knot shaped plug nearby, an took turns pumping every ounce of what they had in their hairy boy balls into his womb. 

Now he was all swollen up, about halfway through his term and sure he’d be having triplets at the least. He wasn’t sure yet if they’d be a mixed litter, or all from the same father, but either way, he was sure the boys would all help out to take care of them. 

They’d been excellent so far, for teenage kids. Always making sure Derek was comfortable, well fed, doted on and smothered with affection. Scott liked to swaddle him in blankets and pillows, always bringing new throws and body length cushions, settling Derek into nests of them and treating him like glass. 

Isaac read books and sang little hymns to the babies, spending a large amount of his time with his face plastered to Derek’s rounded, fuzzy belly– kissing it, humming against the taut skin, buying little speakers that played soothing music and foreign languages into the womb. 

Jackson took it upon himself to nag about Derek’s health. He brought horrid smoothie concoctions every morning for Derek to drink, rubbed all kinds of butters and oils into his stomach and hole, went over breathing exercises and what kinds of activities Derek should and shouldn’t be doing. It was sweet, if exhausting. 

Stiles was the one they all got after, and of course, Derek’s favorite, because he was the indulger. He brought Derek fried foods, took him to concerts, helped him into skin tight jeans, and made sure Derek’s lust didn’t drive him insane. Stiles fucked him and fingered him, nibbled his milky tits and groped his balls, rode Derek with hands planted on his belly, and fucked his dick against the round of it to come all over the skin and rub it in. 

Derek secretly hoped above all that he had one child from this smarmy, charming boy. The smattering of moles, the upturned nose, the cupid’s bow lips, the warm eyes. They’d make gorgeous pups together, and the sheriff would be an excellent grandfather. 

But he kept that to himself, sure that even if it wasn’t meant for right now, there was another pregnancy in his future.


	12. Derek/Stiles-- reconnection, wooing, established relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: HEY, MISSED SEEING YOUR STUFF! HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL :3 HOW ABOUT BILLIONAIRE DEREK AGGRESSIVELY TRYING TO BUY STILES' LOVE, THOUGH LITTLE DOES HE KNOW STILES ALREADY KIND OF DOES AND IS VERY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUCH EXTRAVAGANCE

> _Hey there! I’m trying to get my shit together– trying being the imperative word there, but oh well. Glad that you’re happy to see me around again. ^^_

It’s weird, being able to say you knew someone when. It’s a sentiment that gets thrown around a lot, something everyone has probably told a friend once in their lives— no matter how honest. Usually it happens when you’re young, when you don’t know how to accurately gauge talent, drive, the way the world works. You tell someone that they’re gonna be big and you’re gonna be able to sell their first shitty song or drawing or idea they gave you in purple pen on a diner napkin.

Stiles is in that surreal space where it actually happened. Derek Hale, 30 Under 30, 2017’s Most Eligible Bachelors. His teenage crush is officially plastered across magazines and billboards, on tv, suited up for interviews and shirtless in photoshoots. It’s… mind boggling. Like the guy wasn’t out his league before.

Having the evidence and nationwide confirmation is shitty. He’s happy for Derek, really. He just also kind of has to finally admit to himself there was no way that small, vulnerable dream he’d had of meeting up at a high school reunion, hitting it off, making out behind the bleachers, and eventually settling down to have kids in his dad’s old house was ever gonna happen.

Not that he had much of a chance anyway, but still. It was a nice thing to escape to— that thought like maybe someday you’ll miss your exit to work and just keep driving until you’re in a city where nobody knows you. He thinks it’ll die down, that he’ll stop having to constantly be on the verge of a stomach ache because it’s inescapable— especially in their small town.

Everyone wants to talk about him, the hometown hero that’s putting them on the map. Stiles just wants them all to shut up about it so he can have some peace. Because if he’s being honest honest, like might as well since he’s slowly demo-ing his pitiful fantasy, it wasn’t just a crush he nursed on Derek Hale. Stiles is pretty sure he loved him.

Derek listened. Derek took him seriously. Derek gave a shit.

High school was a time for Stiles when no one else really did. His dad was still in the dregs of mourning his mom. Scott was still kind of a shitty teenager— they all there, that’s what teenagers do, but still. The deputies found him a nuisance, his teachers actively despised him. But then there was Derek, who just looked at him and saw.

But he was always popular and handsome and smart and athletic and no one could fathom why he was always letting Stiles tag along like a younger sibling that couldn’t make their own friends. Most thought it was pity, Stiles sometimes believed them. He’d always held on to the notion that it wasn’t though, that maybe Derek felt something for him, with him.

Until the gifts started pouring in. It started with roses, chocolates, even a singing telegram. When the cheesy, preprinted cards signed with a stamp went unanswered they were followed by watches and baseball tickets, a personal chef for the day, a fucking car! Everyone thought it was so romantic. Everyone thought Stiles was so heartless. An old lady spit on him in a convenience store.

How could anyone turn down the great and mighty Derek Hale? Stiles was finding more and more reasons every time a knock came at his door. His kids understood him at least, because oh ya. That thing where they say those that can’t do, teach? Derek went out into the world and did shit. Stiles loved story time with his second graders.

They liked to hear about all the extravagant atrocities he was now having a hard time finding place to put. They snickered and groaned and amicably patted his cheeks with sticky hands, always sympathetic. All they needed to know was that Stiles didn’t want the attention and that was enough for them to take his side.

What he wished someone else would hear is that it all meant nothing, and that’s what actually hurt. Derek was just throwing money at him, like a problem. Maybe he really always had pitied Stiles, saw a kid that didn’t have anything and now he was trying to fill his life with material garbage. Stiles was being showered in wealth and he hated every second of it.

Because what a fool. He’d honestly thought Derek understood him. All this years no one he’d ever dated could live up to that high school boy next door that made eye contact and listened. Now he’s pretty sure he dreamed it all up. A guy like that wouldn’t just mail him things from states away with a stamped signature he probably had made so the book signings would go faster.

Stiles didn’t want all the gifts. If Derek had just visited, just called, just written. His friends and coworkers kept telling him beggars can’t be choosers and Derek Hale was a jackpot anyway. But he’d rather be lonely in his own house, surrounded by his own things than lonely in a gilded cage, someone’s pretty plaything or pet pity project.

It’s a year into Derek’s celebrity and a Tuesday when they literally run into each other at the park. Stiles was surveying his kids on a Field Day. Derek was walking his designer wolf hybrid. Squished between their chests were the sticky remains of two ice cream cones. Stiles stammered. Derek let out a slow, blushing smile. His ears still lit up red.

Stiles had packed extra clothes— always on the guard for kids puking on him, his own clumsiness sending him into a mud puddle. A tanktop nearly burst around Derek’s chest and showed off a decent amount of his adorably hairy belly, but he wore it good naturedly, acting shy whenever the kids came around, covering it with his hands.

They sat under a tree and talked and talked and talked. The kids loved Derek’s dog. Stiles loved how much Derek knew about the breed and avidly taught them. Derek frowned and the light left his eyes when Stiles made him promise to stop sending gifts at the end of the day.

That didn’t last too long, as he followed it up by saying he doesn’t do long distance and Derek shamelessly jumped at it— claiming he was here to convert his old family estate into a home office anyway. Stiles was pretty sure he was lying, he was also pretty sure he didn’t care. Somehow that old lady still gave him crusties when they walked by hand in hand. Some people just can’t be pleased. 


	13. Derek/Stiles-- mpreg, pack fic, doting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: FOR FLUFF CAN WE HAVE THE PACK TAKING CARE OF PREGNANT DEREK?

> _I refuse to apologize for how silly this is. I couldn’t not. :P_

He’s fussy. Too hot, too cold. Starving but everything makes him sick. He likes to nap the afternoons away but gets headaches when he wakes up. Honestly, Stiles is pretty sure the baby’s gonna be easier to handle than Derek’s been. Not that a rotund, feisty Derek hasn’t been both adorable and so sexy his dick actually aches most days, but his husband can be a bit of a handful, especially after a double shift.

It’s why the pack’s decided to set up an alternating schedule, like a chore wheel only every triangle is take care of Derek. Stiles swears he’ll make it up to them, that the twins, when they come out, will be so cute it’ll all be forgotten. Werepups are adorable! They shift when they sneeze!

Then the horror stories start coming in. Derek slapped a bowl of pasta out of Allison’s hands when he jokingly did airplane noises at him. Derek threatened to kill a salesperson when Boyd and Erica took him stroller shopping. Derek’s been fingering himself in the living room and begging someone to fuck him and Jackson seems a little too game. Things started disappearing from the house and Isaac found Derek nesting in the basement. He thinks Derek may have marked the territory.

Derek insists on a water birth. At the house. In their backyard.

The pack says they’ll visit once the kiddy pool is disposed of. Stiles tries not to panic as Deaton positions his hands in front of his husband’s honestly wrecked asshole, just waiting for a kid to shoot out. Cutting the cords is horrifying. Watching Derek cradle them to his swollen chest, tears in his eyes is something Stiles will never forget.

Later, when they’ve got booties on and Derek can’t stop dozing off and Stiles has made sure he’s all squared away for a couple months off work, they all decide it’s worth it. They try to hold onto that idea when Derek announces he can’t wait to be pregnant again. 


	14. Derek/everyone-- mpreg, possessiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED: ALRIGHT, JUST WANTED TO BE SURE BEFORE SENDING. HOW ABOUT SOME MPREG FLUFF WITH PREGNANT DEREK BEING DOTED ON BY HIS TWO BABY DADDIES, STILES AND PETER. (OR SOMEONE BESIDES STILES IF YOU FEEL, BUT DEFINITELY PETER TRYING TO ONE UP THAT PERSON)

Was gonna be the first new Hale in a long, long time. Too long, if you asked… well if you asked anyone around. The family could use a break, could use something just nice for once. So it came as no surprise when Derek was immediately spoiled rotten. 

He tried his best to smother that smug, little grin amidst the nest of pillows and blankets he’d made of their bed, a real den for him and his cub to relax in while be waited on, hand and foot. Stiles just rolled his eyes, but was all too happy to see Derek reveling in it for once, forgetting his need for self-torture. 

His belly was just chubby, waiting for the real, watermelon swell, and everyone wanted to kiss it, the soft dark hair there tickling noses as they murmured greetings to the wriggling cubs inside. Peter burred low growls from the corner every time someone bent to rub at the mound, but they all just chuckled softly at his over-protection. 

He’d been worst of them all, guard dog mode activated. He policed every treat sneaked in, every activity suggested, every guest brought in to see the happy couple. Stiles thought it was a bit excessive. Peter thought he might have a pup in that litter. Derek just wished they’d stop treating him like glass and fuck him real nice and deep while his hormones were raging. 

They’d all agreed when he took Stiles as his mate, any subsequent kids would be raised as solely their own. Derek didn’t want to shirk his duties as alpha to a growing pack, let anyone who wanted breed him for the chance of siring a new beta, but he’d always been a family man, and that priority would never change. 

They all knew the deal, before they were ever allowed to knot him in cycle. They were welcome to Godfather any cub they’d bred, but they’d always be Derek and Stiles’ children. They’d see how that worked when the first litter was delivered, but for now everyone just seemed excited, wondering how many new additions would be brought into the fold, if they’d all be were, how many would get Derek’s gorgeous eyes or Stiles’ endearing moles. 

Derek cried frequently, but only ever with a smile, eager to hear the patter of wild, little feet running through his family home again. 


End file.
